


A Year From Now, He'll Remember

by vriskan



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-17
Updated: 2013-12-17
Packaged: 2018-01-04 21:45:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1086030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vriskan/pseuds/vriskan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At times, Romano finds that Prussia is not all that he appears. Underneath all that bullshit, there's even more bullshit. But at least the latter is a bit more romantic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Year From Now, He'll Remember

**Author's Note:**

> this is a prumano secret santa (2013) thing for doodlyood @ tumblr. the prompt: anniversary.  
> 

Like everything else that ends with Romano throwing a fit or maybe some random object, Prussia says something that doesn’t seem like a big deal but must, in fact, be.

“Oh. Hey, look. That’s just like our second date, too,” he comments, nudging Romano and pointing to the screen. He’d been bored out of his mind and hadn’t bothered to look at the screen until about three seconds ago, unlike his lover who was, obviously, the reason they were watching this movie in the first place.

It’s an average night, which means he’s exchanged his romcom-hating soul for some cuddles, which is a completely manly thing to do when his other option is to be laying on the same couch except alone and probably cold. Romano isn’t very generous with their bedroom’s blankets when he’s in a pissy mood. 

Besides, it’s beneficial to him when he lays down on the couch and stretches his arms invitingly out; he gets rewarded with Romano’s heated body pressing all up against his front, curly tips of hair tickling his chin every time he says something, and hands smaller than his which squeeze warningly every time he says something stupid when there’s an emotional scene happening.

That doesn’t mean he never gets bored, though. Because he gets bored often. As much as he’s a complete sap when it comes to emotional stories about animals, particularly when there’s an abandoned baby bird or a rescue puppy, he just can’t seem to care about these shitty, dramatic, romantic storylines!

On those times when Prussia starts to fall asleep or focus more on his libido than his desire to snuggle, Romano can’t easily turn around and see, but he can feel Prussia practically crushing him and he can also feel a boner pushing against his ass.

So that’s why, when the lights are low and there’s no space between their bodies, and there’s even a supposedly romantic movie on in the background, Prussia still ends up bored and blue-balled to the point he’s willing to watch.

Romano squeezes his hand, once, in gentle warning. That’s the norm. Then he pauses, turning around to face Prussia as best as he can. “What did you just say?” Usually, his inane comments don’t result in this.

“Uhhh…” Should he just pretend he didn’t say anything? No, no, that tends to make things worse. What should he…?? Best to laugh and try and force his way through this, he guesses. His guesses are pretty much always wrong when it comes to Romano, but he does exactly that anyway. “I was just sayin’, ‘cause, I mean, we went to a shitty bowling place for our second date, too,” he laughs, nervously, and if his arms weren’t already being held captive by his boyfriend, he would be scratching at the back of his head.

“N-not that I mean the date was shitty, because, uh, I mean, I won and that was pretty awesome… although you played pretty well too, I guess! Um. Can you just tell me if I’m getting somewhere out of trouble here, now, or….?” He wishes Romano would stop looking at him so intensely, because he’s not like those romantics in the novels-- he has no idea whether that stare means Romano wants to make love to him on the spot or murder him equally immediately.

“You’re saying… you remember our second date?” Romano repeats, slowly, pretty much discarding everything else Prussia just said. The movie continues to play in the background, for once ignored by both people in the room.

“Well. Uh. Yeah?” This, at least, is one thing he’s supposed to remember. He thinks. Man, maybe he should actually start paying attention to these movies Romano gets so emotional over, because he could really use the advice. 

“Why would you remember our second date, and not our first?” Romano’s doing that thing, the thing Prussia finds really cute. The thing where his eyebrows are furrowing and he’s tilting his head, looking suspicious and confused. It might not sound cute, and it might not seem cool for Prussia to say so, but it’s definitely cute to him.

“But I remember our first?” Now he’s also confused, and when he’s confused he ends up looking more lost than outright suspicious. Perhaps that’s simply because he’s unable to follow this conversation and whatever meaning Romano is taking out of it.

This time, Romano huffs at him and rolls his eyes, which is a gesture more familiar to Prussia. That’s because it means Romano doesn’t believe a word that he’s saying, although they’ve progressed to the point that the expression is only needed when they’re surrounded by company and Prussia has gone off about his awesomeness and his lack of weakness. “Bullshit,” Romano says, although it’s not quite necessary.

“No, I’m serious,” Prussia frowns. He doesn’t like not being taken seriously. Especially when, for once, he’s not actually bullshitting. “We went out to a dinner at that pizza place down the street from my old house and then saw a shitty romcom, because I thought you’d want the proper first date, and it was kinda awkward because we weren’t used to dating compared to being friends.”

“... What?” Romano blinks at him. “Was it really awkward? I don’t remember that part…” 

“Yeah, maybe it was just for me. You seemed all starry eyed, plus you were really into that stroganoff you ordered. It was like, the first time I’d ever seen you so demure.”

“This is like, the first time I’ve ever heard you say the word demure,” Romano challenges, most likely trying to bluff past his apparent forgetfulness. “But that… doesn’t make sense. Why would you remember our first, well, anything? Doesn’t seem like you, I mean, let’s be real here.”

Shots fired, then? Prussia isn’t really offended. Everyone knows his pastimes include shooting zombies on his game console or building stuff on his pc, or even training up his team on his handheld. Romano has seen deeper into his personality, and maybe seen a shed tear or two (or three hundred), but that still doesn’t mean his irresponsible and goofy outward persona has been hiding a romantic and responsible one underneath.

In truth, it really hasn’t. But Prussia isn’t going to go off admitting why he’s actually retained all this information. Though, he would love to show off and impress… “I remember the first time we held hands, too,” he confides. “It was also the first day we skipped a world meeting together, and I joked that you’d get lost in the park if you didn’t hold on tight.” 

“Oh my god,” Romano says, pushing his hair up from his forehead. “I remember that. That was the day you laughed so hard at your own stupid joke that you ran right into a tree and gave yourself a cut between your eyebrows.”

“Errrr…” He winces a little, also bringing a hand up to his forehead, but to trace the little scar. “I kinda chose to forget that part, thanks. But don’t feel so high and mighty, princess, because that’s the day you tripped over your own foot and ate dirt ‘cause you were laughing so hard at my own battle wound.”

“Point taken,” he frowns. “Moving on before I can truly remember that that happened. You only remember that because of the scar, not actual. Uh. You caring-ness?” 

“That’s not true!” Prussia sits up in protest, bringing Romano up with him along the way, now feeling legitimately annoyed. “I care enough to remember that when we first met it was a Wednesday, and that the first time we had a sleepover after we started going out you stayed up half the night afraid you were going to wet the bed, which is silly really considering how that hasn’t happened since you were a kid and we had already slept in the same bed before. And, and, I remember the first time when we were friends, that you smiled at me instead of just scowling.” 

For some reason, Romano isn’t looking at him right now, but Prussia’s in the middle of his speech and he’s not going to stop until he’s convinced the other. “And I remember the day you smiled, it was three whole days after we knew each other! That means it was August 12th! It took a while ‘cause you’re a sourpuss a lot, especially around people you don’t know, just like how you still won’t smile at anything Lud says, except when you think nobody will notice like that first time I saw it during the Christmas party back at Grandpa’s!” 

“August 12th? Christmas party? Grandpa’s?” Romano’s still not looking at him, he’s staring determinedly at the blanket, and Prussia can’t even see his face because of the terrible lighting in this room, but he still feels doubted. 

He takes Romano’s hands in his own, finding them easily somehow even in the dark, as if when they’re together his body is permanently aware of every little detail about his love. “Yes! I swear it’s true. It’s the same party I got drunk from eggnog at-- well, the first one, obviously! But don’t you remember, I gave you a promise ring and you thought I was proposing marriage and your face turned so red it outshone the tree’s lights?”

“O-Of course I remember, you jerk! I just-- I just can’t believe you do,” Romano hiccups, and at that moment Prussia realizes he’s crying.

Not a sad cry, obviously. Prussia knows because when Romano gets legitimately sad, he throws things and stomps his way to a pile of blankets and silently cries. This is more dramatic, sniffly, and that’s definitely the beginning of a watery smile he’s seeing. 

That’s fucking adorable. Maybe he’s just an ass who likes the signs of weakness-- actually, no, that can’t be right, because he also loves the signs of annoyance and happiness and straight-faced strength. Any face on Romano, really, whether it’s a sign of amusement or embarrassment, is cute to him. The only thing he can’t stand is the sight of disappointment, or true hurt. He’d give up one, maybe two of his favorite games to never see those faces again.

Shit, he’s really gone soft, lately, especially if he’s having loving inner monologues about Romano’s numerous expressions while staring into that very same lover’s eyes. This was what he was hoping to prevent by not mentioning his interestingly in-depth memory. 

“Umm, yeah, I dunno,” Prussia huffs, looking away and staring at that incredibly fascinating, discolored spot on the ceiling. Yes, that one, the one that neither of them have ever been able to figure out where it came from. They’ve argued about whether it resembles more a sheep’s wool or cotton candy, before, and they’ve yet to actually pull through with plans on covering it up with new paint or anything. 

Actually, they’ve done that about a lot of things around the house, like the hole in the wall from where Romano’s elbow went through the drywall when Prussia tickled him that one time, and, oh, there’s that missing window pane from the pot that one of them threw during their food fight a couple weeks ago-- they’ve never been able to agree on whose fault that is, really, but Prussia’s sure that it wasn’t him. 

“You fucking idiot,” Romano interrupt his thoughts, and--

“Ow!” Prussia’s head slams into the couch cushion to his side, as recoil from Romano’s headbutt. “What the fuck did you do that for??” He whines a little, and pouts a little, turning back and bringing his hand up from Romano’s side to rub at his chin. 

Romano stares heatedly at him, his eyes watery and perhaps a bit red around the edges, and although it could be the lighting the effect is still cute as fuck to Prussia’s twisted mind. “Because-- because you have the audacity to do things so sweet and romantic and just try to b-brush it off as no big deal!! You’re such an asshole, I can’t stand it!!” 

“That’s basically what you said on our fourth date actually, when I gave you a bunch of tomatoes on your doorstep instead of flowers,” Prussia says, pointedly, and Romano blinks once more with his teary glare before practically shoving him through the couch with the force at which he kisses him.

“Oh,” Prussia says, because that’s almost all he can say with his mouth rather busy at that moment. 

Romano kisses him long, and sweet, because he can be as nice as he wants to be when he feels like it. He feels no need to hurry, or bite, or tease for once. It’s an innocent kiss, reminiscent of the beginning days that they’ve been talking about. “You’re such a moron,” he whispers, when he takes a breath, which is also nice for him, and then he nuzzles Prussia’s face. “Why can’t you ever say things like that on our actual anniversaries?” 

“Pshh,” Prussia waves his hand, leaning his head back to smile at the ceiling, and then he pets the back of Romano’s neck. “Why should I? That’d just ruin the fun. It’s best to leave you wanting, ‘cause then I get this sorta reaction.” He hugs Romano a little closer, even though neither of them is going anywhere. Whatever’s on the television in the background somehow seems perfect for the occasion, even though he’s focusing more on the green brought out in Romano’s eyes than anything else. 

“I hate you,” Romano states, and means the opposite. He holds on very tightly, and wipes his face all over Prussia’s favorite shirt. There’s actually already a tear stain around that spot, from a similar occasion when Romano had tearily, happily clinged to him after they finally agreed on which house to move into together and then spent three hours talking about the dogs they were going to adopt and the garden they were going to tend and, maybe, the kid or two they were going to have.

There is a reason that this is Prussia’s favorite shirt, after all. 

He leans his head down, still smiling, and smooches Romano’s forehead.

“I love you too,” he says, and means exactly that. 

 

(For a while, he’s content to lay there and enjoy holding Romano close, thoughts drifting over all those little things from the distant or not-so-distant past. It’s nice, actually, it’s even better than nice. It’s awesome. He can’t ever count the number of times they’ve done this, just resting and listening to each other breathe and being content with their at times silly love for each other. 

This is the truly romantic part of the evening, Prussia believes. Not the words they say to each other, even when they’re honestly sweet or thoughtful. He likes the end of the day best, when he can take comfort knowing that he has his Romano right here with him, and that them and their feelings aren’t going away anytime soon.

As happy as these calm and loving thoughts can make him, it’s not even twenty minutes later when Prussia comes up with the best way to explain himself in a way that’ll piss Romano off and he starts to snicker, quietly.

“Hey, Romano,” he pokes his lover in the side, for once not aiming to tickle.

“Don’t,” Romano warns. He absently swipes at the annoying hand, and Prussia can practically hear the apprehension in his voice. “Just don’t, I know you’re going to say something stupid and ruin the mome--”

“It’s like video game achievements to me,” Prussia interrupts proudly, grinning widely at the chance to justify himself, talk about his favorite hobby, and annoy his lover all at the same time. 

“Nooooo,” Romano whines, burying his head against Prussia’s chest. “Stop!” It’s muffled, but very obviously clear. “You’re ruining it!! Ruining it!!” 

“Hey, it’s not like I specifically try and like, I dunno, do everything to get reactions or milestones in our relationship or anything. More like, I’m having fun and really loving this game and then when the important things happen I remember them like, fuck yeah, I got to do this special thing.” He pauses, considering what he just said, and then pokes Romano again. This time, he goes for the cheek. “Did that make sense?” 

“No,” Romano says flatly, and knocks his nose against Prussia’s collar. “Did it make sense when I told you to shut up? Because you should just do that. Like, right now. Before I do it for you and I don’t mean in the kissing way because you seriously just ruined the moment and--” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Prussia ruffles his hair, expecting the huff and the repeated mini-headbutt. “Can I just get my “Prussia, you’re an idiot” kiss and then go back to thinking about video games?” 

Romano grumbles something he can’t hear, likely about his terrible taste in men, and then goes for a quick, chaste smooch. Prussia can’t help but tilt his head in, not wanting to give up just yet, and it might be true that Romano lets him and smiles the whole time. Obviously, they have to tolerate each other's idiosy for everything to have worked out like this so far.

They part, and Prussia has his eyes closed but he would bet his entire collection of diaries that Romano’s got that flushed, annoyed that he’s happy face on. He feels the other settle down at his neck, and mumble, “Whatever, you’re an idiot, I love you, goodnight. Happy?” 

“Very!” Prussia chirps, and then settles down against his suspiciously lumpy couch slash pillow. Right before he drifts off he realizes, _this is the anniversary of me first talking about our anniversaries! I can’t wait to bring that one up next time._ )


End file.
